


Snatch Your Chain

by 2space_lesbo1



Category: Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Deal with a Devil, Demon Deals, Drunkenness, M/M, eeeyyyyy another au, got an idea from a sogn and went with it, kinda random again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 17:41:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12687087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2space_lesbo1/pseuds/2space_lesbo1
Summary: Jack has had quite the winning streak for a good time now, what could this last bet hurt?





	Snatch Your Chain

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea from three words(the title omg) in the song "emperor's new clothes" by panic at the disco and i really don't question where my ideas come from anymore. they just happen. randomly.

Anti is trying to win his land back from another group of demons, taking Mark along for the ride. Mark believes he’d rather have Anti dead. Turns out after a major fight after being stuck with him like a dog for a few months, he’s come to care for Anti and does not want him to actually die. He saves Anti by letting the demon drink his blood. This gives Anti a sudden power surge and makes it where he is able to heal and win the fight quickly. 

Mark is taken to meetings and is left when there are fights in buildings nearby. 

 

“Ya see that Mark!?” Jack asked loudly, laughing as his dice once more land on the winning numbers, gaining him even more gold. The Irishman throws a triumphant look at the owner of the casino type place they currently reside in, wriggling his eyebrows. The owner, the one many call Demon’s Hand, merely smirks in return, shrugging at the his look alikes sickeningly obvious excitement. Mark, who is standing beside Jack, rolls his eyes, taking another sip of his iced water. Jack slides his new won gold into a bag, leaving half of it on the table as he runs off to get more alcohol. As if he needs anymore. “Be right back Mark!!”

As Mark leans back onto the counter beside the table Jack had been playing on, the owner walks over, his eyes once more looking Mark up and down. Mark throws him a glare; this isn’t the first time the Demon’s Hand has checked him out, not even his first time to approach and try flirting. But Mark doesn’t swing that way and he’s growing quite annoyed. He leans back forward, arms crossing on the edge of the table as the owner fully approaches. 

“You enjoyin yourself still?” He asked, his voice carrying the same accent as Jack’s. Though, he has a much deeper and scratchier tone, a much more demanding kind. “Or would you rather be off somewhere else? With someone else?”

“I already said no, buddy,” Mark replied dismissively, gaze sliding to Jack who is now running back, two beers in hand. He sighs heavily. Jack really should lay off from the drinks before he does something he’ll probably regret. He stands up, taking one of the large cups from the Irishman’s hands.

“Hey!” Jack protests, glaring at Mark.

“One more,” Mark said sternly, handing the cup to a passing waitress. He can still feel the prying eyes of the owner on his back, watching his every move. He does his best to ignore this fact. “No more after that. Jack, you have to stay sober enough for Signe, remember?”

Jack pouts, chugging a large amount of the last beer he’d be having that night. “Okay fine,” he said a bit sadly. Then he looks back to the Demon’s Hand, grinning widely as he slams his hands on the table to face the owner fully. “Ready for another round, cheapskate?”

The owner smirks, a dark look filling his eyes as he replies, “Indeed. In fact, I have a wonderful idea for our next bet.” His eyes are on Mark as he speaks, the shadows in his already black eyes growing. They seem to hold a hunger to them and Mark has to shift beneath their beady gaze. 

“Oh really?” Jack asked with a smirk and Mark feels as though he should stop him now. A strange sense of foreboding had fallen over him, twisting in his gut uncomfortably. He feels as though they should be leaving now. Immediately. 

“Hey, Jack,” Mark began, resting a hand on the irishman’s shoulder. Jack shoots him a look as the Demon’s Hand lightly shuts his eyes as he speaks, appearing to be drinking in his voice. “I think it’s time we left.”

Jack’s eyebrows raise sharply and the owner’s eyes snap open, lips turning down in a sneer. “What? Why?” Jack asked like a whining child. 

Mark is about to answer but the Demon’s Hand interrupts, grabbing Jack by his other shoulder and spinning him back around. “Come now, my good man,” he said and Mark glares as Jack’s short attention is stolen. “Let us play one more game.”

“Jack we should really-.”

“One more game!” Jack declared loudly and Mark grumbles softly, eye twitching in his annoyance. They probably really should leave. “Now, what do you have in mind?”

“Well, Jack,” the Demon’s Hand began. But Mark doesn’t pay attention to what he has to offer, not really caring for their conversation anymore. It becomes static in the back of his mind. Until he hears his name be brought into the conversation: “If I win, then Mark is mine.”

Mark’s eyes widen and he jolts to his feet, grabbing tightly to Jack’s wrist. “Right, that’s enough,” he stated, trying to pull Jack away. But the Irishman holds still, eyes locked with his opponent’s. “Jack, seriously. We’re not betting my freedom or whatever shit this man has in mind.”

Jack meets Mark’s eyes and Mark nearly gasps at how out of it the Irishman looks. He has a strange feeling that it isn’t because of the alcohol… “It’s fine, Mark!” Jack exclaimed, yanking his hand from the American’s. “This guy fucking sucks! I’ve won every time against him! It’ll be no different! And,” he grins widely, “I’ll win that sweet sweet mansion for me and Signe.”

“Jack-!” Mark tries again. But the Irishman ignores him, leaning forward towards a large piece of parchment which had suddenly appeared in the center of the table. He grabs at Jack, tries to stop him- it looks too much like a contract for his liking- but the Irishman is already scribbling his name out, the ink lighting up. The parchment is snatched from the air and into the Demon’s Hand’s hold, a twisted grin on his face as he stares at the paper. Mark’s stomach does a flip at the sight, especially as those dark eyes land on him once more, a sickening excitement lighting them. He swallows heavily. He has a strange feeling that Jack won’t be winning this time. 

“Let us begin,” the Demon Hand said, voice strangely echoing with static as he splays his hand out towards Jack, offering the first move to the Irishman. 

Mark watches with bated breath as the game goes on, grinning shakily every time Jack gets a good score, breathing quicker with every low score. He's on the literal edge of his seat as he watches, eyes darting back and forth with the rolling dice’s movements. 

And then the dice land on a pair of snake’s eyes. The Demon's Hand had rolled it. That’s when everything happens at once. 

Jack lets out a loud gasp, turning his eyes in a panicked state to Mark who is stepping back, entire body shaking. He’s made it maybe five feet back when something cold and heavy forms around his neck, pressing against the skin with a cool touch. His eyes widen as the Demon's Hand stands fully, a mad grin twisting his lips upwards and away from sharp fangs. He raises a hand and appears to be holding something, yanking the hand back. Mark stumbles forward as this causes a golden chain to form from his neck to the owner’s hand, gasping like a fish from water as whatever around his neck tightens. He claws at it as the Demon’s Hand chuckles loudly, over the sound of Jack’s panicked pleading. 

“The casino is now closed!” The Demon’s Hand announces, yanking the chain of light. Mark tries to fight against the pulling but the metal around his neck digs into his skin painfully and he chokes once more, tripping and barely catching himself mid air by smacking a hand on the edge of the table. A pair of fingers snatch his chin, forcing his head upwards. He gasps as sharp nails slide along the skin of his chin, making him meet the Demon’s Hand’s eyes, that hunger in them appearing to be slightly sated. Jack is still rambling behind Mark, his slurring voice pleading with the owner of this casino just as his eyes narrow, landing on the Irishman in a dark glare. “Get him out of here.”

As soon as this was said three men come from nowhere, tightly grabbing Jack and dragging him along with the crowd of people leaving. “Mark!” The Irishman called, snapping Mark from his frozen state as the Demon’s Hand hums softly, running a thumb along his cheekbone. 

“Perfect name for such a pretty face,” the man muttered. Mark growls softly, tearing his face from the man’s hands. He stumbles backwards before catching himself, glaring at the Demon’s Hand. 

“I’m not staying,” Mark informed heavily, continuing to back up, keeping his eyes locked on the amused eyes of the Demon’s Hand. He’s turning when the metal around his throat once more tugs on his neck, this time smashing his Adam’s apple. He chokes on spit and air, stumbling back again at the surprise and force of the pull. He growls softly, reaching up to the metal around his neck, clawing at it to try and find away to get it off. 

“It won’t be that easy, love.” It was a whisper in his ear and he jumps forward, not realizing how close the other man had gotten. The casino is empty and Mark is now left alone with this strange man possibly holding him hostage. He swallows heavily at the closeness and tries to step forward, but the chain connected to the collar is so taut he can’t even move his head. The glowing chain is held tightly in the man’s hand as those black and green eyes once more look his body up and down. “It’s sealed around you now.” This is said with utmost satisfaction that twists in Mark’s gut. 

“What the hell does that mean?” Mark demands, gritting his teeth at how the metal continues to dig into his skin, continues to bite painfully into the front of his neck. 

“It means,” lips are pressed to the skin of his neck, just beneath his earlobe and he involuntarily shivers. Breathes brush against his skin as the man chuckles, wrapping one of his arms around Mark’s stomach. “It means you belong to me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope ya'll enjoy! tell me what ya'll think ;)


End file.
